


The Snows Are Fled Away

by Chash



Series: Neeeeeeeeeerds [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:31:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is leaving for China in five days, which isn't nearly enough time for a new relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Snows Are Fled Away

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the summer after Clarke and Bellamy's junior year, right after they get together. Warning for Underage/changing rating because Clarke is seventeen and there are some sexy times. Title from A. E. Housman's "Diffugere Nives," a translation from Horace's Odes.

If Bellamy had in any way planned it, he would not have told Clarke Griffin he loved her five days before she left for China. He'd thought about how to do it a few times, never seriously, because Clarke was the second most important person in his life, and the idea of screwing it up with her was so awful that it didn't feel like it could possibly be worth it.

(Now that he's got her, he's willing to admit he was completely and utterly wrong about this.)

Instead, she showed up on his bed, reading a mythology book, with her legs up and her dress sliding halfway down her thighs, and no jury in the world could have convicted him for losing his self control.

And now she's leaving. In _five days_.

"I was really excited about it, too," she says. He's lying on her bed this time, while she tries to pack. Her mother isn't home, and Bellamy's trying not to think too much about why he isn't trying to get her to have sex with him. "Now it's just--" she tosses him a grin. "Still excited, but _three weeks_."

"Hey, you get to go to China," he teases. "I'm just going to be working for three weeks."

"Mmm," she agrees, flopping down next to him and rolling against his side. He could really get used to her casual affection thing. "Sorry."

"I like the bartending gig," he says. "Between that and lifeguarding, I'm rolling in tips. It's like being a prostitute, but legal." She pokes him in the side, and he kisses her hair. "No, really, I like it because drunk people are hilarious. A guy last night was telling me how many smurfs he'd be able to take in a fight."

She laughs and nuzzles closer, nose against his neck, and he slides his hand up under her t-shirt.

"How many?" she asks.

"There was a lot of background. First he had to figure out how big a smurf was, which he looked up on his phone, and then he spent a while trying to figure out their tactics. Like, if they all stood on each other's shoulders, they would be a lot easier to fight than if they just mobbed him."

"I don't know, if they mobbed you, you could just kick them off, right?"

"Depends on how many there are."

She starts giggling into his shoulder. "I can't believe we're having this conversation. This isn't how I pictured dating someone."

"Yeah? What were you thinking?"

She props her elbows on his chest so she can look at him. "You haven't tried to get me naked once."

"In the last two days," he says, but his mouth is a little dry.

The thing is, he's pretty sure Clarke is a virgin. Lexa's the closest she's come to dating since he met her, and he doesn't think they got very far. Bellamy's definitely _not_ a virgin, and it's been a long time since he had to navigate that. And he really wants to do this right, which isn't something he's ever tried before.

"Bellamy."

He has to smile, because Clarke is the ultimate at seeing right through his bullshit, and it's equal parts awesome and annoying. "You haven't done this before," he says, leaning up to kiss her. "I'm not in a hurry, okay?"

The weirdest part is that he's not. He would have fucked her right on his bed, that first day, if she hadn't wanted to go to the party instead, but the sharp need has mellowed since then, and he knows it's because she said she loves him too, and that she's not going anywhere. 

Aside from China in five days, but he's not convinced that's going to be more fun if he knows what having sex with her is like before she leaves.

"I could be in a hurry," she tells him, tugging at his shirt. He leans up so she can take it, and then pulls her back on top of him for another kiss. He's not in a hurry, but he's not a _saint_.

"Are you?"

She pulls her own shirt off, and Bellamy just sort of stares like an idiot, because, _god_ , her breasts are fucking unfair. He still remembers the first time he saw her in a henley, with the top few buttons undone, sophomore year, and he nearly walked into a wall. "You know you saw me in a bikini all last summer, right?" she asks, instead of answering his question.

"Trust me, I know," he says, grinning. "If Miller wasn't gay, I would have been telling him how shirtless you were too." Although, really, he's pretty sure Miller had been able to read between the lines of, _yeah, the job isn't too bad, great tips and the princess visits sometimes_. 

She slides back on top of him, kissing him wet and dirty, and he's going for the clasp on her bra when he hears her mom yell, "Clarke, whose car is that? Is Bellamy here?"

He groans and flops down, watching Clarke bite back a giggle and wishing it wasn't so hot. "Yeah, he's helping me pack!" she calls.

"Hi, Mrs. Griffin!"

They reclaim their shirts and by the time Abby gets to Clarke's room, Bellamy is alone on the bed again, reading a comic book, while Clarke stuffs shirts in a bag.

"Are you staying for dinner, Bellamy?" Abby asks, with the same forced smile she always has for him.

"I have work tonight," he says, hoping his own smile isn't too pained. He'd like it, if the two of them got along, but she's already this uncomfortable with him and she doesn't even know he's dating her daughter yet. "But thank you for the offer."

"Of course. You're welcome anytime." She narrows her eyes. "Door stays open, Clarke."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "You weren't even home. I didn't want to let the AC out."

"Open."

She leaves, and Clarke flops back next to him. "I'm going to tell her when I get back," she says, soft. "It seems like too much trouble to deal with before the trip."

"Okay."

"I'm not embarrassed of you."

He laughs outright at that. "Yeah, I remember you at that party, you couldn't wait to show me off. I assume you're still texting Raven about how excited you are," he teases."I'm not worried, Princess."

Clarke digs around for her phone and shows him her texts from Raven; apparently Raven wanted to hang out today, and Clarke just responded with _Bellamy_ and a blushing emoji. Raven's response, _yeah, get some!!!!_ , has gone unanswered.

"See?" he says. "Tell your mom whenever."

*

She shows up at the pool the next day in a new bikini, which is about the most unfair thing that's ever happened to him. It's pale blue, and stringy, and she probably wants him dead. She _has_ to want him dead.

"Jesus Christ, Princess," he hisses.

"What?"

He glances at his watch and signals for the other lifeguard so he can take his break. She doesn't protest as he takes her by the wrist and drags her toward the changing rooms, but her curiosity gets the better of her when they get to the supply closet.

"Bellamy--"

He's pretty sure everyone who's paying any attention knows exactly what he's doing, but he still tries to be a little subtle as he unlocks the door and pushes her in. And then he's got her up against the wall, kissing her like his life depends on it. "Jesus, you can't just show up like that," he tells her, biting her neck.

She moans softly, angling her neck so he has more room. "I did it all last summer," she says. "I didn't think--"

"I didn't know you wanted me last summer," he tells her. "I have twenty minutes, can I go down on you?"

He hears her head thunk back against the wall. "That's what you want to do?" She sounds pained, but he's pretty sure it's the good kind of pained.

He licks her neck and lets his hand flirt with the band of her bikini bottoms. "Yeah."

"Okay."

He knows other people hook up in here, but he's never done it himself. It's cramped and uncomfortable, but when he drops to his knees and looks up, Clarke is staring down at him, mouth slightly open, and he doesn't want to be anywhere else. He presses a few wet kisses to her stomach and slides her bottoms off, slotting his hands on her hip and rubbing over her hip bones, smiling when she squirms.

"You can't just stare at me, Bellamy, it's weird," she says, tangling her hand in his hair. "You're going to make me self-conscious."

"Don't be," he says, voice gone husky, and nuzzles her thigh. She squirms again, but he's pretty sure this one is a good one, anticipation rather than nerves. 

He slides her leg over his shoulder, getting support under her in case her legs stop working, which--well, he's kind of hoping they will. In an ideal world.

She moans softly at the first press of his lips against her, and gasps at the flick of his tongue on her clit, her hand tightening in his curls. "I can feel you smirking," she tells him, voice a little unsteady, and he strokes two fingers inside her, just to shut her up.

It doesn't work. Clarke's not loud, not exactly, but she's communicative, all soft little noises and breathless words like _please_ and _fuck_ and _Bell_. She rocks against his mouth desperately, holding onto his hair so hard it hurts. It's the hottest experience of his life, and she's not even touching him.

She collapses onto him after she comes, breathless and shaking, and it's a minute before she says, "How much longer?"

He checks his watch. "Five minutes. I need to jerk off."

"I can't do it for you?"

He bites back a groan at the thought. "Maybe not fast enough," he admits. The excitement of her hands on him might be counterbalanced by her inexperience; he'd rather make sure he gets off than find out. At least right now.

"Can I watch?" she asks, eyes dark, and he shoves his trunks down and gets himself off in record time.

"Seriously, you need to warn me before you show up in a fucking string bikini," he tells her as they head back to the pool. "Text me or something." His coworker gives him a very knowing smirk, and Bellamy just waves his thanks.

"If that's what happens when I surprise you, I'd rather surprise you," she says, with a cheeky smile.

"You're actually going to kill me."

She kisses him on the cheek. "Probably, yeah."

*

Raven and Wick set up another party, this one to say goodbye to Clarke. 

"Do we really need this many parties?" Bellamy asks. Wick told him that as Clarke's official boyfriend, he was required to help with party preparations. Bellamy doesn't think it's a real rule, but he's not doing anything else, and Wick is sort of his friend.

"We don't _need_ parties," says Wick. "Just like we don't _need_ to try to attach rocket engines to bikes. But they're awesome, so we have them anyway." He grabs a couple bottles of Coke and casts a sidelong look at Bellamy. "How's it going, anyway? You and Clarke."

He huffs. "Oh, we're doing that?" 

"I'm trying to be supportive! Give you a friendly ear if you need one. I'm _helping_ , Blake."

"It's fine," he says. "Good." He runs his hand through his hair. "It really sucks that she's leaving."

Wick claps him on the shoulder. "Yeah, I bet. Sorry, man. But me and Raven will be around. You can cry about how much you miss her anytime we want. We're here for you."

It shouldn't be comforting, but it actually kind of is.

The party is a lot smaller than the graduation one, just the four of them plus Jasper, Monty, Harper, Monroe, and Miller, for some reason.

"What are you doing here?" Bellamy asks, confused.

Miller shrugs. "Wick said you were going to need someone to cry on. And I wasn't doing anything else."

"I'm so glad you all have so much faith in me," he grumbles, but it actually is kind of nice, having Miller hanging out with the other people who might reasonably be called his friends. It's almost like he has an actual social circle.

When he tells Clarke, she counts on her fingers and says, "Nonagon," and he shoves her.

*

"When were you going to tell me you and Clarke were dating?" Octavia asks. Clarke's leaving tomorrow, and Bellamy is trying not to think about it.

"Whenever I felt like it," he says. 

She scowls. "Bell!"

"I was going to tell you, but I've barely seen you since it happened," he says, and that, at least, is true. Octavia is working this summer too, and between his jobs, her job, his girlfriend, and her boyfriend, they've barely been home and awake at the same time for more than half an hour in the last week. "I wasn't hiding it or anything." He frowns. "Who told you?"

"Lincoln. One of his friends said you guys were totally making out at that graduation party."

"We were not," Bellamy grumbles. "We kissed _once_. Because Raven wouldn't shut up about it."

"But you're dating."

They haven't actually gone out on anything that counts as a date, in the traditional sense, but he figures that's okay. "Yeah." He pauses and adds, "But she's going to China for three weeks tomorrow, so that sucks."

"Aww," says Octavia, getting up from the couch and coming to put a consoling arm around his shoulders. "Sorry, Bell."

He shrugs her off, but he's kind of secretly pleased. Octavia doesn't hug him much now that she's a teenager, and the affection is kind of sweet. "It's fine. It's just a few weeks. I was going to miss her anyway."

Her affection turns mocking, as he expected. "Awwww," she teases. "Bellamy's in _looooooove_. You're going to _miiiiiiiss heeeeeeer_."

"You're just saying what I already said to you," he says, rolling his eyes. "That doesn't really work as a burn, O."

"Bellamy and Clarke, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

"Does your boyfriend know you're this immature?"

"Yeah, he thinks it's cute."

"He's wrong, don't listen to him."

Octavia kisses him on the cheek. "I'm happy for you, Bell."

He ducks his head. "Yeah, thanks."

*

Clarke stops by the bar to say goodbye; her mom's driving her to the airport early, and there won't be any time in the morning.

"Don't even try to show me a fake ID," he tells her. "I'm onto you."

"It's weird that you can serve alcohol when you can't drink it. How do you know what you're making is good?"

"Everything I do is perfect, Princess."

She snorts. "That must be it." She worries her lip and says, "I'm nervous about seeing my dad."

"Yeah?"

"It's been four years since I saw him in person. I know the divorce sucked for him, but it sucked for me too, you know? And he took off. I really could have used him." Bellamy pours her a Coke and slides it over, she accepts it with a smile. "It really is easy to tell the bartender all your problems," she teases. "I had no idea."

"Helps when you're dating him," Bellamy says. "You still email with him, right?"

"Yeah, but--" she shrugs. "What if we don't get along like we used to? What if I've been mad at my mom all these years, and I would have been just as miserable if he got custody instead?"

"Then you'll know that, and maybe you'll get along better with your mom. That wouldn't be bad, right?" She's still frowning, so he reaches over and takes her hand. "You'll be fine, Clarke."

"It's weird to be nervous about seeing my _dad_. I never thought that would happen." She smiles. "You know, I was just coming to say goodbye, not stress out."

"I don't mind." He squeezes her hand and gives her a teasing smile. "I got used to you venting at me years ago, Princess."

She laughs. "I think my mom knows we're dating, but she's not bringing it up yet either. I don't think she minds, though."

"Cool." He bites his lip and says, "I'll miss you."

"Yeah," she says. "Me too."

*

She emails every day, pretty much, only missing once or twice. She sends pictures of herself and her dad with big smiles, of plants she hasn't seen before, of immense foreign vistas he'll never see. It makes him a little jealous, just a small, hollow ache in the pit off his stomach that she can afford to do this, to not work and travel halfway across the world instead, but it mostly just makes him wish he was with her.

He hangs out with Miller, and sometimes Raven and Wick, and even gets to know Lincoln a little. He's kind of annoyed that he likes the guy; he tells Clarke that in an email and she just replies, _HAHAHAHAHAHA I TOLD YOU SO_ , and then, ten minutes later, _HAHAHAHAHAHA_.

He wants to be grumpy about it, but he can't stop smiling for an hour.

She emails two days before she comes back with, _Can you come get me from the airport ? Mom says she has a last-minute work thing and I think she's just trying to be sneaky about being nice, but I don't actually care._

He types _YES_ so fast he typos the first three times, but she seems to figure it out.

*

He takes half a day at work so he can pick her up, which his boss actually seems happy about. He's pretty sure she thinks he works too much, which is one of those rich-person things that makes him want to scream. If you want money, you work. It's not like he wouldn't love to take a whole summer off to hang out with his girlfriend, but an afternoon and free evening is about the best he can do.

Clarke comes out with a giant bag and a tan, looking rumpled and exhausted, and Bellamy's breath still catches when she sees him and smiles. That's for _him_. He's the one making her that happy.

He catches her when she throws herself in his arms, kissing her hair. "Welcome back, Clarke."

"I was really expecting Princess," she says, muffled against his neck.

"Next time," he says. "Have fun?"

"You know I did. I told you everything already."

"See if I try to be polite again," he says, but he grabs her bags from her and carries them to the car, despite her weak protests.

"My mom wants you to have dinner with us," she says. "Supposedly to thank you for getting me."

"God, she really does know, doesn't she?"

"She got lucky," Clarke says, shrugging. "She'd probably be doing the same thing if we weren't dating yet."

The _yet_ makes him smile; it was inevitable for her too. "I guess there's no point putting it off, right?"

"We'll probably have some awkward conversations about my dad," she says. "And maybe some about you. And I might fall asleep on my plate, I'm pretty jetlagged."

"Seriously," he says, squeezing her hand. "I'll come to dinner. I don't mind. All I had planned tonight was hanging out with you."

Clarke yawns again. "Do you want to come home and take a nap with me? Because that's about all I'm good for right now." She smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, I was totally planning to have my way with you as soon as I got home, but--"

He snorts. "We've got time, Clarke."

She falls asleep before they even make it back, and Bellamy gets her bags in and then carries her upstairs. When Abby gets home, Clarke is sleeping on his chest while he reads one of her SAT prep books.

"Are you coming to dinner with us, Bellamy?" she asks, soft, trying not to wake her daughter.

"Yes, thank you for inviting me." He refuses to be embarrassed. He's not actually doing anything wrong. 

"I need to take a shower and get changed," she says. "But I'll be ready to go in about half an hour."

"Okay," he says. "I'll get her up."

Abby lingers for another moment, a small smile on her lips, like she maybe actually _approves_. It's kind of startling.

Once she's gone, Bellamy shakes Clarke's shoulder gently. "Your mom's home. Dinner in half an hour."

"Did I seriously just sleep all afternoon?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd you let me?"

"Hilarious as it would have been to watch you try to stay awake, I thought you needed sleep." He kisses her. "I'll be here when you get over your jetlag, Princess. I'm not in a hurry."

"You keep saying that," she says, smiling as she gets up. She tugs off her shirt and switches it for an unrumpled one; Bellamy watches shamelessly. She laughs when she sees him. "And then you do stuff like that."

"Still true," he says. "I'm just not _blind_." He gets up and slides in behind her, nuzzling her neck. "I'm not going anywhere, Clarke," he murmurs.

She relaxes against him, closing her eyes. "Cool. Neither am I."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Podfic - The Snows Are Fled Away](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5574794) by [bienenalster (pinkspider)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkspider/pseuds/bienenalster)




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